[ Since the incident in the ritual chamber and the division of the Aions into two sides, Howl's understanding of what his Shard is, and how to use it, has expanded greatly. When he learned of its special ability to enable communication between other Aions — even those of the Pleroma, hundreds of miles from Achamoth — he immediately resolved to try it himself. The fate of the others has been weighing on his mind, especially since that harrowing dinner with the Regent.
While there are a few people he could reach out to, there's only one person he met on the Pleroma side who he feels comfortable reaching out to. In the quiet privacy of his quarters, late at night, he holds his Shard in front of him and focuses his mind on the kind-hearted mute. ]
My friend. Can you hear me?
[ If this works, it'll likely come as a shock. Hopefully he isn't interrupting anything serious. ]
[ it does come as a shock. dextera is no stranger to the presence of another person against the sanctity of his mind, but time had given the expectation of it a chance to settle. he therefore tenses up, immediately uncomfortable in his bed, but a closer examination tells him that the presence is a familiar one.
distant, strained, but still not someone dextera wants to consider an enemy if he can help it. ]
…
[ he follows instinct to accept and respond to howl’s words, and for the first time, howl will be able to hear his quiet voice in the clarity of a word. ]
…yes.
[ there’s still something not quite tangible about it; it’s his thoughts and impressions given shape through the power of their shards rather than a statement from his mouth, but for the purposes of communication it’s more articulate than anything he’s ever been able to say up to now. ]
[ It worked. Howl heard him respond! — although, no, "heard" isn't the right word for it at all. He has no word for it, really; the closest sensation he's ever had to this was the connection he once shared with Calcifer, but even then, they are really not comparable.
Blinking in the wake of the sensation, Howl frowns and focuses on his Shard again. It seems there's no point in speaking aloud. ]
Where are you? Are you hurt? Safe? [ Howl's thoughts more strongly manifest as words, in a 'voice' that's unmistakably his own. He doesn't know how the mute will react to Howl contacting him like this, but the earnestness of his concern is apparent in his questions. ]
[ now that dextera has been given the opportunity to speak, the difficulty of it comes in a different way than a physical barrier to speech. he doesn’t know how to respond to this concern, with the knowledge that howl has gone with the regent’s forces.
but it is a relief to know that he’s alive, and sounds like himself. ]
…I’m okay. I can’t tell you where I am.
[ even if he would like to, he understands the value in secrecy. ]
( the indication that one's shard gives at having received a message through their ritual of Communion is like a nagging at the back of one's mind — like something that they've just barely forgotten and are now trying to recall to mind by force. with the nature of reaching out to one attuned to the Pleroma, dextera would be aware that it was M who was seeking to contact him now, and he would have to accept in order to receive it.
if he did, however, he would get the mental impression of a message sent in extravagant, dramatic script: )
I hope that my gift has proven useful to you since last I saw you.
[ the insistent prickle is one he instinctively wants to reject, but luckily his shard does not independently act on that intention and gives dextera a moment to stop, consider, and accept the message being presented to him. considering how their last interaction went, he wonders what the purpose of this one is. he had been sure, upon reflecting, that makoto—still only known, perhaps forever only known by the single-letter moniker—would have considered their debt settled.
the medium of ‘text’ requires no speech from dextera. his reply is presented in something much plainer than the opening. ]
It has. I’m alive. Thank you.
[ curt, but courteous. ]
for better or for worse we are vore buddies 4 lyfe
( their last interaction? oh, that? ah, please. for makoto, who on a relatively common basis pledges to destroy and devour the person who means the most to him in this or any other universe, one little threat of death was basically just cementing their friendship. it's — setting boundaries! all dextera has to do is not try to scorch his demonic soul with holy fire ever again, and all is good and forgiven.
as far as he is concerned, yes, the physical debt of objects given and received was settled. but that wasn't all that they had between them, is it? they had between them an understanding, and it was one that makoto couldn't say he'd ever even gotten close to with anyone else. as loath as he would be to admit it, it makes it harder to sever all ties, even if they are now on opposite sides of the metaphorical, metaphysical fence. )
Given that you are replying to me, yes, so much is evident, thank you. How is freedom treating you? Are you well?
[ freedom. that suggests to dextera that makoto still considers his side of things captivity despite alliance with that force—or perhaps it just plainly is captivity, and dextera is missing the bitterness that might ensure it as such. ]
It’s better than before.
[ he can’t say he’s well, but he’s no longer immediately under the thumb of soldiers who don’t care much for his well-being. ]
( comparatively, yes. but there are plenty of freedoms and liberties to be found beneath the yoke of oppressive dictatorship, so long as one plays by the rules. there are plenty of comforts and benefits to be had as well.
for him, it is largely dependent on the Regent and what sort of tyrant they end up being in his eyes. if their requests are sound and don't end up with him feeling humiliated or taken advantage of, perhaps he could play the part of contented pawn. he had never been given that option with J.
as it is, there is no bitterness to be found because there isn't any to begin with. makoto has made peace with the beast locked within his heart, and it's not the first time he's done such a thing. )
You would have no need to worry, if you found yourself doing such a thing. We live in the lap of luxury, so long as we play our cards right. Regardless of whether or not it suits us. Though, for my part, it suits me just fine.
Do you feel that the results of your decision similarly suit you?
he sits up. he glowers into the middle distance in the gloom of his room in the citadel of achamoth for a full minute before reaching to withdraw his shard from where it's embedded at the base of his skull.
dextera will receive a message from makoto once again, and should he accept it, he will immediately be hit by a wave of fury, an absolute flood of wrath. it wouldn't be strange at all for dextera to think that makoto is wroth with him, but if he didn't immediately sever the connection of Communion because of all of this, he will get the sense that he is definitely not the subject of this particular emotional assault (just an unfortunate unintended casualty of it).
[ for better or for worse, dextera is accustomed to such fury directed his way. he doesn’t know what he did, but he accepts it for what it is despite the note of their last conversation—but some exhausted further investigation sets at ease the confusion, more than worry, that dextera might have committed another sin without realizing it.
his thoughts come slowly, drawn lethargically from dreams, but the benefit is that he can speak through his shard without ever opening his mouth. ]
Okay.
[ simple but willing. he wonders what makoto has on his mind at this strange hour. ]
( a moment passes. gradually, makoto gets the torrent of rancor under control; it lessens to a stream and then to a trickle and then to little more than a violent undercurrent surging just beneath the more tangible line of their Communion.
were it anyone else, he would get to the point regardless of whether or not it cut too close to the quick. but having already woken up dextera at an odd hour and assaulted him with a fury that he didn't deserve, he doesn't necessarily want to compound that unnecessarily by launching into a topic that might be... troubling for him, to say the least. all he has to go on is the archangel's words and how he spoke of the young man. that, and how he might react if someone had approached him with similar news about J.
but, in the end, he can't think of a decent way to approach this without being at least somewhat blunt. so he musters an image of the archangel as he stands out in his mind's eye and projects it to dextera.
[ dextera instinctively closes his eyes against the projection, but it reaches into his mind. his arm aches where the consciousness orb was embedded in his clones, as a memory of this precise thing burned into something deeper than flesh. in the relative silence of his room—there are always creaks and voices and wind, in a place this cheap—dextera actually whimpers. ]
—…
[ how does makoto know? where did he get that image from? why now, why does it matter? dextera can’t say that these weeks have been peaceful, out from under the thumb of the archangel, but he had just been getting on his feet without the constant barrage of degradation on the nape of his neck. terror squeezes his chest. ]
I don’t know. I don’t know. Please don’t ask me that.
[ he knows the man, of course. but the answer to the question is too complicated to answer. the archangel is someone profoundly important, not just to dextera, but to the entire world from which he came. ]
( at the response, makoto immediately revokes the image.
for a long moment there is nothing but still and quiet from him. since becoming a demon in body and soul, he can't say he's felt remorse for anything he's done. when his father had crumbled away to bone, ash, and gold dust immediately upon plunging a knife into his ever-beating heart. when he had gathered the debris of enough souls to cover the tiled floor of the fountain in J's manor. he had toppled his former employer and, in his despair, allowed another demon to usurp his role. he had taken advantage of the simple, heartfelt wishes of another and left him shattered in his wake — two of those shards he still wears, sewed into the small of his back.
none of that registers to him, because why should it? he hated his father, and every human that had ever summoned him had agreed to the terms of his contracts. and why should he care about the fate of any demon when they were the monsters who twisted him into what he was now?
but dextera — no, makoto doesn't enjoy causing him discomfort, as strange as that was for him. he perches on a stilted moment of silence before replying, ) I'm sorry. And I won't, not again.
( it's accompanied with a feeling of... genuine remorse, even if it's a very small and fledgling sort of thing, struggling for purchase in the fallow ground of makoto's heart. )
[ It takes him over a week to muster up the will to send this particular communion message, shoulders stiff despite the lack of danger anywhere nearby. By that point the nightmares have largely receded, the bright red stain of blood across a youthful throat fading into something darker and muddier.
His own surge of shock (betrayal?) has since faded as well, leaving him with nothing but disarrayed thoughts he can't seem to organize no matter how much he tries. But if there's anything he's good at it's pushing back his discomfort to search for the answers he seeks. Better to understand as much as he can now about this young man he only thought he understood than to let misunderstandings fester further.
So it's one ordinary afternoon that Dextera gets a knock-knock on his communion doors, the even-keeled but confident signature probably recognizable. ]
[ no is dextera’s immediate answer, and although he keeps it from spilling over into actual words, eustace can certainly feel the defensive flare, mired in all the guilt that builds and calcifies every time he thinks of what transpired in venera. the immediate desire to reject the request is as much to protect eustace as it is dextera’s own feelings; he’s aware that this conversation—no matter how it proceeds—will be unpleasant for the both of them. ]
…
[ the silence is weighted. eustace already knows that dextera can speak through communion, so dextera doesn’t think he can get away with just being quiet. how does he even allow this conversation, though, knowing what he did? ]
[ He sure can feel it and it triggers a responding bubble of unhappiness within him, his own teeth gritting together. It's not like he can force Dextera into talking if he doesn't want to but it would be easier to just get all of this over with instead of both of them having to sit and stew in their unpleasant feelings for weeks on end.
Avoiding his emotions might be a nice temporary solution, but he'd done enough of that back in Venera. ]
Can we meet in person? Someplace neutral is fine. You can choose the place.
[ A shrine maybe, or somewhere near the outskirts of Venera. ]
[ it may seem an odd choice, considering what they just went through with the innocent and the fact that it isn’t even dextera’s legacy, but he chooses it for a reason—the land around it is lush and peaceful, free from any violence. nothing can harm or be harmed there, and despite what happened, dextera prefers such gentle circumstances. ]
Is that okay? Can you make it there?
[ it was the first teleportation incantation he learned, and as well-ingrained in him now as his own shrine. ]
[ With everything packed up, returned, or given away, Dokja's at the tail end of his preparations to leave Godsblood behind. A certain someone had made it impossible for him to stay, and after recent events, he's facing more hostility now than before. The sooner he gets out, the easier it'll be for the other Pleroma staying in this city, and it's with this in mind that has him hurrying along.
All that's left to do now is to say his goodbyes, and he's at a familiar doorstep now that morning has come and he's soon to leave. He could have easily done this over Communion, but he hates that method of communication and besides, this is something he wants to do in person.
... There may be some left over guilt from when he'd passed and his thoughts had gone to the people he'd met here, the relationships that had grown despite not trying to become attached, and how much he wished he had said more before his death.
Well, he's back now. And without any more hesitation, he knocks on the door. ]
[ dextera rarely has visitors in the first place, so even if he hadn’t recognized the voice, there’s only a scant few people that would show up at his door. after everything that happened, dextera simply assumes that it’s dokja coming to check on him—avoiding communion, as he seems to prefer, and for no other reason at all. ]
…?
[ remarkably, when dextera opens the door, he seems freshly bathed. his clothes are on and washed, and there’s the faint scent of soap still lingering on his skin. his hair is even still damp. ]
[ This is indeed a momentous occasion, especially after the last time he had seen the State of Dextera. At least someone is doing better? Dokja can't say the same after returning from the dead.
Semi-dead? ]
Sorry if I caught you at a bad time. I just wanted to say goodbye.
[ Keep it short and sweet. It's not like they'll never see each other again. ]
[ dextera tries to echo the word before his throat stops him, disallowing even the surprise. gently touching his throat, he frowns at dokja instead, clearly asking him to explain further.
it wouldn’t surprise him if dokja was trying to run away, since dextera himself has entertained the thought, but he didn’t expect it now. ]
[ It does take some time, since the logistics were slightly trickier than Sebastian had expected without arousing undue suspicion, but. As promised, a trio of three letters will arrive in Godsblood for Dextera. One is addressed to Abel, one to Himeka, and of course, one for Dextera himself. The handwriting is very neat and calligraphy-like, clearly written with a sense of care for appearance behind it. ]
Dear Mr. Dextera,
It may be with some level of luck involved, but I very much hope this letter has ended up in your hands! As I started to look into the matters of posting a letter, it was perhaps a bit more complicated than I may have expected. Should this be read by anyone but the addressee, then I do apologize, but it shall be matters that are somewhat dull to your eyes, I imagine.
In truth, there is much I wish to speak of, but also much ill-suited to a letter. I have settled into life on Horos, in a way, though my first few weeks have been some of the busiest I have seen. It is all something that could be found in a story, I find. To be reborn in a world struggling for its existence or its end and to be regarded as a sort of divine hero would be quite the tale. That is to say nothing of what happened once we parted ways. And so, I shall not, for I cannot, in some sense.
Instead, I hope that you fared well, relatively speaking. It is what I would at least say for myself. I believe it would be fair to say that both sides suffered, and to compare them would be something I am unable to do. It is very much a matter I find perplexing still.
However, to begin solely on notes so dour would be a poor way to begin, would it not? So for something far lighter, may I ask what hobbies you may enjoy? I very much enjoy cooking, myself, and it has been a light with which I have been distracting myself. In fact, enclosed you shall find a recipe for a bun that I believe I have just perfected. I do not know if you yourself may bake, but if not, do feel free to pass it along to someone that may.
In any case, for future correspondence, please send further replies to Venera, as that shall be considerably easier. As such, I cannot promise prompt replies, but I shall endeavor to do my best to check regularly.
Sincerely, Marthe
[ And indeed, also tucked into the envelope is a pretty fancy recipe, also handwritten. ]
[ unsurprisingly, there’s a bit of a delay on dextera’s response, though he delivers the letters he’s supposed to as promptly as possible. when he does answer, it’s on a sheet of paper that clearly was supposed to be new, but somehow it’s gotten just a little grimy between its purchase and use as a base. ]
Marthe,
What happened in Achamoth was horrible. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m glad that you understand.
I don’t have many hobbies because I don’t have time for them, but when I was a child, I enjoyed chess. If I could find someone to play with here, I think it would make everything a little easier. But I don’t have a chessboard.
I know someone that bakes. Thank you for the recipe. I’ve never had pistachio paste or orange blossom water. I’d like to know what they taste like.
[ based on the spacing at this point, it’s obvious that dextera had intended to end the letter here and realized it would have been completely insufficient. ]
I live in Godsblood now and there are a lot of things that come through the markets here. Is it the same in Achamoth? What is life like there? Is it different from your home?
[ there’s a blot of ink where his hand moved to write something that he didn’t intend. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
communion; ~1 week after the escape
While there are a few people he could reach out to, there's only one person he met on the Pleroma side who he feels comfortable reaching out to. In the quiet privacy of his quarters, late at night, he holds his Shard in front of him and focuses his mind on the kind-hearted mute. ]
My friend. Can you hear me?
[ If this works, it'll likely come as a shock. Hopefully he isn't interrupting anything serious. ]
no subject
distant, strained, but still not someone dextera wants to consider an enemy if he can help it. ]
…
[ he follows instinct to accept and respond to howl’s words, and for the first time, howl will be able to hear his quiet voice in the clarity of a word. ]
…yes.
[ there’s still something not quite tangible about it; it’s his thoughts and impressions given shape through the power of their shards rather than a statement from his mouth, but for the purposes of communication it’s more articulate than anything he’s ever been able to say up to now. ]
no subject
Blinking in the wake of the sensation, Howl frowns and focuses on his Shard again. It seems there's no point in speaking aloud. ]
Where are you? Are you hurt? Safe? [ Howl's thoughts more strongly manifest as words, in a 'voice' that's unmistakably his own. He doesn't know how the mute will react to Howl contacting him like this, but the earnestness of his concern is apparent in his questions. ]
no subject
but it is a relief to know that he’s alive, and sounds like himself. ]
…I’m okay. I can’t tell you where I am.
[ even if he would like to, he understands the value in secrecy. ]
no subject
He sighs to himself and closes his eyes again. It may transfer as a tiny wisp of relief.
I'm glad to hear it.
[ before anything else... ]
What should I call you, friend? Or ought I stick with 'little bird'?
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
communion | a week or two after escape, idk
if he did, however, he would get the mental impression of a message sent in extravagant, dramatic script: )
I hope that my gift has proven useful to you since last I saw you.
hey buddy. missed u
the medium of ‘text’ requires no speech from dextera. his reply is presented in something much plainer than the opening. ]
It has. I’m alive. Thank you.
[ curt, but courteous. ]
for better or for worse we are vore buddies 4 lyfe
as far as he is concerned, yes, the physical debt of objects given and received was settled. but that wasn't all that they had between them, is it? they had between them an understanding, and it was one that makoto couldn't say he'd ever even gotten close to with anyone else. as loath as he would be to admit it, it makes it harder to sever all ties, even if they are now on opposite sides of the metaphorical, metaphysical fence. )
Given that you are replying to me, yes, so much is evident, thank you.
How is freedom treating you? Are you well?
no subject
It’s better than before.
[ he can’t say he’s well, but he’s no longer immediately under the thumb of soldiers who don’t care much for his well-being. ]
…what about you?
no subject
for him, it is largely dependent on the Regent and what sort of tyrant they end up being in his eyes. if their requests are sound and don't end up with him feeling humiliated or taken advantage of, perhaps he could play the part of contented pawn. he had never been given that option with J.
as it is, there is no bitterness to be found because there isn't any to begin with. makoto has made peace with the beast locked within his heart, and it's not the first time he's done such a thing. )
You would have no need to worry, if you found yourself doing such a thing.
We live in the lap of luxury, so long as we play our cards right. Regardless of whether or not it suits us.
Though, for my part, it suits me just fine.
Do you feel that the results of your decision similarly suit you?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
communion | just before the newcomers arrive
he sits up. he glowers into the middle distance in the gloom of his room in the citadel of achamoth for a full minute before reaching to withdraw his shard from where it's embedded at the base of his skull.
dextera will receive a message from makoto once again, and should he accept it, he will immediately be hit by a wave of fury, an absolute flood of wrath. it wouldn't be strange at all for dextera to think that makoto is wroth with him, but if he didn't immediately sever the connection of Communion because of all of this, he will get the sense that he is definitely not the subject of this particular emotional assault (just an unfortunate unintended casualty of it).
after a moment: ) We need to talk.
no subject
his thoughts come slowly, drawn lethargically from dreams, but the benefit is that he can speak through his shard without ever opening his mouth. ]
Okay.
[ simple but willing. he wonders what makoto has on his mind at this strange hour. ]
no subject
were it anyone else, he would get to the point regardless of whether or not it cut too close to the quick. but having already woken up dextera at an odd hour and assaulted him with a fury that he didn't deserve, he doesn't necessarily want to compound that unnecessarily by launching into a topic that might be... troubling for him, to say the least. all he has to go on is the archangel's words and how he spoke of the young man. that, and how he might react if someone had approached him with similar news about J.
but, in the end, he can't think of a decent way to approach this without being at least somewhat blunt. so he musters an image of the archangel as he stands out in his mind's eye and projects it to dextera.
and along with it: ) Who is he to you?
no subject
—…
[ how does makoto know? where did he get that image from? why now, why does it matter? dextera can’t say that these weeks have been peaceful, out from under the thumb of the archangel, but he had just been getting on his feet without the constant barrage of degradation on the nape of his neck. terror squeezes his chest. ]
I don’t know. I don’t know. Please don’t ask me that.
[ he knows the man, of course. but the answer to the question is too complicated to answer. the archangel is someone profoundly important, not just to dextera, but to the entire world from which he came. ]
no subject
for a long moment there is nothing but still and quiet from him. since becoming a demon in body and soul, he can't say he's felt remorse for anything he's done. when his father had crumbled away to bone, ash, and gold dust immediately upon plunging a knife into his ever-beating heart. when he had gathered the debris of enough souls to cover the tiled floor of the fountain in J's manor. he had toppled his former employer and, in his despair, allowed another demon to usurp his role. he had taken advantage of the simple, heartfelt wishes of another and left him shattered in his wake — two of those shards he still wears, sewed into the small of his back.
none of that registers to him, because why should it? he hated his father, and every human that had ever summoned him had agreed to the terms of his contracts. and why should he care about the fate of any demon when they were the monsters who twisted him into what he was now?
but dextera — no, makoto doesn't enjoy causing him discomfort, as strange as that was for him. he perches on a stilted moment of silence before replying, ) I'm sorry. And I won't, not again.
( it's accompanied with a feeling of... genuine remorse, even if it's a very small and fledgling sort of thing, struggling for purchase in the fallow ground of makoto's heart. )
I think he is going to arrive in this world soon.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
communion, finally coughs my way in here a week late
His own surge of shock (betrayal?) has since faded as well, leaving him with nothing but disarrayed thoughts he can't seem to organize no matter how much he tries. But if there's anything he's good at it's pushing back his discomfort to search for the answers he seeks. Better to understand as much as he can now about this young man he only thought he understood than to let misunderstandings fester further.
So it's one ordinary afternoon that Dextera gets a knock-knock on his communion doors, the even-keeled but confident signature probably recognizable. ]
I want to talk.
no subject
…
[ the silence is weighted. eustace already knows that dextera can speak through communion, so dextera doesn’t think he can get away with just being quiet. how does he even allow this conversation, though, knowing what he did? ]
…okay.
no subject
Avoiding his emotions might be a nice temporary solution, but he'd done enough of that back in Venera. ]
Can we meet in person? Someplace neutral is fine. You can choose the place.
[ A shrine maybe, or somewhere near the outskirts of Venera. ]
no subject
[ it may seem an odd choice, considering what they just went through with the innocent and the fact that it isn’t even dextera’s legacy, but he chooses it for a reason—the land around it is lush and peaceful, free from any violence. nothing can harm or be harmed there, and despite what happened, dextera prefers such gentle circumstances. ]
Is that okay? Can you make it there?
[ it was the first teleportation incantation he learned, and as well-ingrained in him now as his own shrine. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
post-soviseri into firaseri, on the 2nd.
All that's left to do now is to say his goodbyes, and he's at a familiar doorstep now that morning has come and he's soon to leave. He could have easily done this over Communion, but he hates that method of communication and besides, this is something he wants to do in person.
... There may be some left over guilt from when he'd passed and his thoughts had gone to the people he'd met here, the relationships that had grown despite not trying to become attached, and how much he wished he had said more before his death.
Well, he's back now. And without any more hesitation, he knocks on the door. ]
Dextera? It's me.
no subject
…?
[ remarkably, when dextera opens the door, he seems freshly bathed. his clothes are on and washed, and there’s the faint scent of soap still lingering on his skin. his hair is even still damp. ]
no subject
Semi-dead? ]
Sorry if I caught you at a bad time. I just wanted to say goodbye.
[ Keep it short and sweet. It's not like they'll never see each other again. ]
no subject
[ dextera tries to echo the word before his throat stops him, disallowing even the surprise. gently touching his throat, he frowns at dokja instead, clearly asking him to explain further.
it wouldn’t surprise him if dokja was trying to run away, since dextera himself has entertained the thought, but he didn’t expect it now. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
letter, late firaseri
Dear Mr. Dextera,
It may be with some level of luck involved, but I very much hope this letter has ended up in your hands! As I started to look into the matters of posting a letter, it was perhaps a bit more complicated than I may have expected. Should this be read by anyone but the addressee, then I do apologize, but it shall be matters that are somewhat dull to your eyes, I imagine.
In truth, there is much I wish to speak of, but also much ill-suited to a letter. I have settled into life on Horos, in a way, though my first few weeks have been some of the busiest I have seen. It is all something that could be found in a story, I find. To be reborn in a world struggling for its existence or its end and to be regarded as a sort of divine hero would be quite the tale. That is to say nothing of what happened once we parted ways. And so, I shall not, for I cannot, in some sense.
Instead, I hope that you fared well, relatively speaking. It is what I would at least say for myself. I believe it would be fair to say that both sides suffered, and to compare them would be something I am unable to do. It is very much a matter I find perplexing still.
However, to begin solely on notes so dour would be a poor way to begin, would it not? So for something far lighter, may I ask what hobbies you may enjoy? I very much enjoy cooking, myself, and it has been a light with which I have been distracting myself. In fact, enclosed you shall find a recipe for a bun that I believe I have just perfected. I do not know if you yourself may bake, but if not, do feel free to pass it along to someone that may.
In any case, for future correspondence, please send further replies to Venera, as that shall be considerably easier. As such, I cannot promise prompt replies, but I shall endeavor to do my best to check regularly.
Sincerely,
Marthe
[ And indeed, also tucked into the envelope is a pretty fancy recipe, also handwritten. ]
early sekiseri
Marthe,
What happened in Achamoth was horrible. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m glad that you understand.
I don’t have many hobbies because I don’t have time for them, but when I was a child, I enjoyed chess. If I could find someone to play with here, I think it would make everything a little easier. But I don’t have a chessboard.
I know someone that bakes. Thank you for the recipe. I’ve never had pistachio paste or orange blossom water. I’d like to know what they taste like.
[ based on the spacing at this point, it’s obvious that dextera had intended to end the letter here and realized it would have been completely insufficient. ]
I live in Godsblood now and there are a lot of things that come through the markets here. Is it the same in Achamoth? What is life like there? Is it different from your home?
[ there’s a blot of ink where his hand moved to write something that he didn’t intend. ]
██XI█
Dextera